


Let Me Explain Why There's Nothing Getting Done

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 221B's and Drabbles (Multi-Fandom) [18]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Gen, Messing Around, Q's kind of an asshole, Tanner should get a raise, Tanner should get a vacation AND a raise, cocky bastards and their cocky Quartermasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3589506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is avoiding work, Alec is avoiding boredom. This is the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Explain Why There's Nothing Getting Done

**Author's Note:**

> Something random I came up with at work. I'm sensing a theme here.

“Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.”

Alec groaned at each touch of his chin to the bar.

“Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three.”

He closed his eyes against the strain.

“Thirty-five. Thirty-six. Thirty-seven. Thirty - “

“Christ, Q, will you stop counting!”

Beneath him, lounging on the plank of wood that was tied inelegantly to his ankles, Q laughed. “Don’t you want to know how well you are doing?”

“I’d -” _grunt_ “- rather not know -” _grunt_ “how much closer I am to keeling right over.” _Grunt._

Q laughed again and poked some more at his tablet. “Fine, then. I’ll shut up.”

Alec huffed out a breath and continued pulling himself and the additional weight up to the bar above. Despite his protests, he kept tallying chin-ups in his mind. It took ten more before he realised someone was watching. He calmed his immediate instinct, which was to jump down and figure out who it was. _Well, this was a shit idea._ “I know this looks cracked, but I want you to know that this is all his idea.”

“I have to say, I was curious.”

“Oh, good.” Alec let himself hang in defeat as he addressed Bill Tanner. “It had to be you.”

“Be honest, would you rather have Bond staring and laughing at you?”

“He’d be too busy staring at my fantastic arse to laugh.”

“And that sums him up in a sentence, doesn’t it?” Tanner moved around so Alec could see him. In his hands was the ubiquitous black folder that signaled a job for a 00’s eyes only. “Can we talk a moment?”

Alec nodded. “Where’s Mallory? He's usually the one to hand out assignments.” Like Bond, he couldn’t quite think of the man as M yet. The old bitch still held them all by the balls, even a year later. Bless the ones who came after her death. They would never feel her cold stare on them.

“Oversight meeting. One that Q here should be attending.” Bill cast a cross look at Q.

Q simply waved his hand. “Meetings.” Derision dripped from the word. “I’ll have you know that I’m there right now via this wonderful thing called a video conference call. And I'm busy.” His bored tone did nothing for Tanner’s pinched expression. Alec couldn’t help but laugh.

“Understandable as your dislike -”

“Loathing,” Q snapped. "Bit stronger than dislike."

Tanner sighed. “ _Dislike_ of meetings is, sir, you still need to attend them.” He frowned. “In person.” The frown deepened as Q snorted.

“I have no problem with the meetings themselves. It’s the people who attend. Mallory understands my severe aversion to certain levels of human stupidity.”

Bill blew out a breath through his lips. “Oh, really.”

Alec suddenly was very glad he was trapped in mid-workout for this conversation; otherwise, he’d be on the ground laughing so hard he’d go blind. The board beneath him shifted, and Alec knew that Q had flipped onto his stomach like a petulant teenager.

“Yes. And I’m certain I don’t have to tell you what would happen if I get asked ‘what exactly it is that my department does that uses up so much monetary resources’ once more.”

“You’ve described it to me. At length. I believe napalm and rusty nails were involved in some fashion.” Tanner sighed. “The least you could have done was provide M with backup.”

“Ah, but that’s Eve’s job, now, isn’t it? Wouldn’t want to cross her.” Q sounded so damned flippant that Alec started to fear for the young man’s job. _And what sort of backup was Tanner talking about, anyhow? Q weighed an ounce if he was a pound. Sure, he could fire a weapon with the best of them - literally - but._ Below him, the conversation continued with another heavy sigh from Tanner.

“Sir -”

“And do stop calling me ‘sir’, Tanner. You’re making me feel geriatric.”

Alec snorted. He knew, sure thing, that Q absolutely loved being called Sir at such a young age. He almost demanded it in Q Branch. He said that just to piss Tanner off. And he had to contain his mirth as Tanner’s face flushed exactly as planned.

“Getting back on topic, _sir_.” Tanner nearly snarled, his feathers up. “Being at the meeting personally instead of through an interface is a damned sight better than lounging around doing absolutely nothing on company time!”

“I’m hardly doing nothing, Tanner.”

Tanner drew himself up. “Then what, may I inquire, are you doing?”

“Resistance training.”

Alec looked up at the bar. _What?_ “Is that what we are calling it now?”

“Yes. Hush and do your chin-ups.”

“For the love of God and money, Q!” Tanner finally lost his temper. Of course, when Bill Tanner loses his temper, it looks and sounds like a kettle going off, so it wasn’t all that impressive. Alec had been holding out for that folder being thrown at Q or the wall, perhaps some harsh words and a kick or two. But Tanner only hissed between his teeth and groaned. “We have weights and an entire room stocked with technologically advanced exercise equipment and monitoring equipment - all designed by the best with you at the helm - at our disposal!”

“And not one of those things have the ability to become sentient and move on their own accord, unless there is something you need to tell me?”

Tanner stared. “What are you really doing, Quartermaster?” His exasperation was reaching a fever pitch, judging by the twitching blood vessel that Alec could see from his vantage point. _Dear God, he’s going to blow a gasket, and we’ll have to replace him with an android. Q’d love that project._

Q shifted again, the movement slight and regular. Alec noted the man beneath him was swinging his legs off the edge of the board. Sweat beaded at his hairline and dripped down his back. His shoulders protested the movement, but he could hold his position. He’s done it hanging from a catwalk and a cliff, he could do it in controlled settings. He tightened his grip on the textured bar.

“Recording results of testing and training.” Q huffed a little. “Example: our agent is hanging from the skid of a helicopter, hundreds of feet in the air, as they are wont to do. Almost a job requirement, at this point.”

Tanner’s irritation evaporated in an instant, replaced with a sort of wary curiosity. “Yes?”

“An enemy is knocked from the helicopter bay, either by our agent or another unseen force. To save him or her or theirself, they grab onto the nearest object and hold on for dear life. That object happens to be our agent.”

“Yes.” Curiosity turned to interest.

“Sure, a chin-up is easy. Most people with a decent amount of upper body strength are able to do at least one or be able to hang in position for a period of time. Adrenaline in that situation would easily triple the person’s ability to do so, regardless of skill. A simple workout routine isn’t going to be able to replicate the actual situation you would need to utilize this skill. I am testing Trevelyan on his ability to adjust and function with the addition of an unpredictable element.”

Alec clamped his jaw shut against a laugh that would have doomed him to years of paperwork. Poor Tanner - his face showed every bit of his interest, but a small shadow crossed his eyes as the street-wise part of his brain attempted to raise a warning that Q had just pulled that whole spiel out of his arse.

“Ah. Well.” Tanner finally nodded, slowly, then turned his attention and dawning befuddlement onto Alec. “Since you are in the middle of training, perhaps in an hour?”

“That’s probably for the best.” Alec had to use every ounce of his training to keep a poker face.

“I’d expect M will want a copy of the results on his desk?” Tanner turned back to Q, who’d returned to his original position on the board, tablet hiding his face.

“Yes, yes. Of course. I’ll have it for him by the end of the night, once the numbers are finished. Finicky things, numbers.” Q hummed. “Video call. Busy.”

“Yes. I can see that.” Tanner looked more confused by the minute. “Well, then. I’ll leave you to it, yeah?” Alec felt sorry for the poor man as he walked away. He waited a couple minutes, then chuckled.

“Why aren’t you doing your chin-ups, Alec?”

“Sorry, sir.” Alec readjusted himself on the bar, then began the workout all over again. “That’ll keep him busy, trying to figure that out.”

“Ah.” Q grunted as the board jostled. “Perhaps for a couple minutes. Then he’ll spend the rest of the day figuring out just how much paperwork he can drown me with. He’s not stupid, and he’s not a pushover. He’ll have his revenge, and it will be in the form of dead trees and smelly ink.”

Alec huffed as he used the renewed energy the rest gave him to double his speed. He’d hoped to get to at least one hundred before one of the other agents came over to use the set-up, but now he’d be lucky to get eighty. “And what the hell are you going to tell M?”

“What do you mean?”

“The so-called test?”

“Oh, I’m making a mock-up right now while listening to one of the minor Ministers bitching about cost analysis and use of requisitioned funds to bankroll the three AGM-65E missiles I wanted last November.”

“Why the fuck did you want Maverick missiles?”

Q tapped away at the tablet screen. “Can’t remember now.”

“Oh, God.”


End file.
